Question Mark
by Mazzie May
Summary: A series of quips with Leon asking the same questions we had. Why's and what for's in no particular order. Rated M for language and gore


**Author's Note: One a Resi four kick._  
_**

**Rating: M for language and gore  
Genre: Horror/humor  
Character(s): Leon  
Summary: A series of quips with Leon asking the same questions we had. Why's and what for's in no particular order.**

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**Question Mark**  
Oven Roasted  
_By: Mazzie May_

_BAM!_

The metal door swung open, slamming into the counter, flames bursting from the oven as the heat racks connected with the new oxygen. Leon jumped backwards to avoid getting burned, but the fire kept coming, rushing towards him. _How in the hell—_

--and it wasn't rolling fire blast at all, but an _arm_ that was on fire. Two arms, a whole body, hissing, grasping for him—

Leon raised the gun and fired two bullets into its back head before his mind even completely understood what he was looking at. The rounds exploded out the back, the brain nearly ash from the heat made it look as though wet confetti was sprayed onto the wall. The thing stumbled forward just a few steps more before its face began to cave around the entrance holes. It collapsed to cement floor, its burnt bones snapping as it did.

Leon stared at it for a full second be fore realizing it was one of the infected soldiers. The realization was accompanied by the disgusting and unimaginable stench that wafted from the oven in hot waves. He coughed and gagged and staggered backwards, falling into the swinging door and into the hallway he just came from and away from the kitchen.

He laid there a moment, hacking, before gasping in lungfuls of the cool air. It was stale and some kind of mildew was mingled within it, but that's a hell of a lot better than what's in the kitchen. He spit out the last bits of vomit that came up when the smell first hit him and lifted him self up slowly, twisting carefully to look back. His leg was keeping the door from closing, giving him a perfect view into the kitchen.

A charred arm and hand lay on the floor, their body disappearing just behind the corner. He pushed himself back up against the wall and with his legs going with him, the door swung closed.

He closed his eyes and told himself to count to backwards from a hundred by twos. By the time he reached zero he was breathing normally, but brought his knees up and rested his forehead against them, waiting. The dizzy feeling he got from throwing up and almost hyperventilating kept him on the floor. When the nausea past, he stood shakily, took another deep breath and pushed the door open.

In Raccoon, he'd seen zombies on fire. He saw bodies burning in the streets. The smell had been bad, but he'd been outside and the oil on the asphalt, the promise of rain and the thick strangely sweet smell of rot that hung in the air like a blanket easily over powered the disgusting scent.

Easing into the kitchen, he grabbed a can of something or other off the counter and used it to prop the door open. It seemed a little risky, but at the same time he couldn't let the door close or the burning meat meal would force him back. If it had somewhere to spread to, it'd be easier to breath. Besides, he'd hear one of the implanted soldiers barrel through the rusty metal door at the other end of the hall well before it'd reach him.

The body was blackened, the clothes horribly burned, the skin crackling as muscle spasms made the crisp skin break. Its head was bald of hair and skin and the eyes were shriveled into something Leon wouldn't be able to see without getting closer. Most of the back half of the head was gone, obliterated by the bullets. Tiny, dying flames still clung to what was left of the uniform.

Leon shook his head a little in mild amazement before turning towards the tall oven. The heating rods lined the back and sidewalls, every single one of them a bright red. The setting to the right something in Celsius, but judging from the heat it was emitting, Leon didn't think that six hundred degrees sounded exaggerated.

Bits of the uniform and what he only assume to be skin stuck to the racks, melted, welded to them. Leon stared at them for a moment.

"What the fuck."

What was he doing in there? What the _hell_. _Why?_ His exasperated confusion settled heavily over his nausea. _This makes absolutely no sense._ Who sticks a _body_ in an _oven_ and walks away? Or worse, who turns on said oven and then steps inside? What plan could that have been a part of? What on God's green earth…

Leon breathed slowly through his mouth. The smell wasn't coming from the body; it was coming from the oven. If something wasn't done about it quick, he'd throw up again. Holding his breath as he stepped a bit closer, he kicked the door closed.

He stepped back away from it, the dark chill sucking away what was left of the nasty heat and Leon shuddered. The seriously toxic stink began to fade almost immediately. He looked down at the body. The flames were out, just ember coloured fibers dotted along the corpse.

After removing the door's prop and giving one more look at to oven, he shook his head before brining up his gun and heading further into the building, away from the bizarre scene.

He told himself he just needed to stop being surprised.

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**Author's Note: Everyone thought the same thing, there's no denying it. Giggled over with TheDonutMistress, a half apology to Lindsey.Kennedy. She requested a story from me a few months ago and it's a super cool idea, but it's just kicking my ass. my crap writting skills are having trouble keeping up with it.**

**R&R please, any commentary appreciated.**


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